2,000 and Counting
by DuskMoon15
Summary: They live to kill. They don't care if you're important or not. Fight or die. That's the only choice. Either way, you'll probably be offline after they're done. The scariest thing about these two–they're Autobots. (Likely to be left unfinished; my apologies.)
1. Chapter 1

**This will be my second Transformers FanFiction, and this one is a bit darker than Hidden Past. I am going to enjoy writing this one. Like it or hate it, I don't care, but tell me either way. ~ Dusk**

"Get out of the way," growled a rather small black and dark blue mech, who happened to be facing off with the entire Decepticon army at that moment.

A white and black mech, almost identical to the first stood, glaring up at Megatron. "I don't want to do this," he warned, "but if you insist on it."

"How dare you, Autobots," exclaimed the Decepticon leader, preparing to blast the both of them out of existence.

"How dare we do what?" challenged the first mech. "This?" The second darted off, transforming into a racing bike.

"Oh, is your partner running away?" teased Starscream, taking up a position next to Megatron.

"Hardly."

All of a sudden, half the Decepticon warriors were on the ground, groaning. Metallic blue energon poured from their torn circuitry, seeping into the sand beneath them. One of the fallen soldiers had a message carved into his chestplate. **Your choice – fight us, or we will kill you all. **

The white and black mech appeared again, his armor stained with energon. He grinned madly at the remaining soldiers, sending them running away as fast as they could.

"Get back here, you cowards!" Megatron roared. He grabbed Starscream by a tailfin when the second-in-command tried to fly away.

"So, Megahead, what's your decision?" asked the first 'bot, pulling a long, seemingly clumsy sword from its scabbard.

"It. IS. MEGATRON!" The Decepticon leader lunged for the Autobot, only to receive a devastating blow to his side from the second.

"This is going to be fun, Rapidblast," said the first.

"Agreed, Quickstrike. Pity no others are here to witness it," remarked the one apparently called Rapidblast.

Then they attacked. Neither Megatron nor Starscream had before seen such a fast series of blows. Quickstrike would come in close to wound them with his sword, backing off just as Rapidblast let loose a furious barrage of laserbolts.

"That's not fair," complained Starscream when Rapidblast blindsided him.

"Nothing's fair and you should know it."

Quickstrike glanced at the crowd forming at the top of the crater. "Decepticons and Autobots, here now for the last time anywhere – Starscream!" He smiled wickedly at the second-in-command cowering below him. Turning to Rapidblast, he raised his sword. "Ready?"

"You know me so well, brother."

As they were about to deal the final blow to the Decepticon, Ironhide came down the side of the crater. "Stop it!" He pinned Rapidblast. "You know we do not kill unless necessary." Pushing the brothers to the ground, he faced Megatron. "I apologize for the damage caused by these two. Be assured, they will be dealt with, strictly."

"See that they are," Megatron narrowed his optics, dragging off a severely wounded Starscream.

"As for you…" Ironhide was disappointed, but not altogether surprised by Rapidblast and Quickstrike's actions. "You've been warned a thousand times. I will have to tell Optimus of this."

"Go ahead." Rapidblast dismissed the comment, looking down at the Decepticon corpses beneath his feet. 'Corpses' He giggled insanely. What a word. What a cold, spark-stopping, delightful word. "We don't care."

Ratchet slid down the slope, checking the two small 'bots for injuries. As always, they had sustained none. "Go back to base," he commanded the young warriors. "Someone wants to have a talk with you."

**Later, At Autobot Base:**

"I told you over and over again – I've told you so many times I can't remember exact statistics – you cannot kill unless there is a reason!"

Rapidblast smirked, while Quickstrike yawned. "Have you quite finished yelling yet?"

Cliffjumper was outraged. "No, I have not finished yelling yet!" He grabbed them both, throwing them against the wall. "You have no clue do you? You two are a danger to your fellow Autobots, and to each other. How long before you turn on us? On each other?"

The brothers were stunned. Turn on each other? How could Cliffjumper possibly think they would dare hurt their own brother? Sure, once they had finished with the Decepticons, they'd turn on the Autobots, but who cares. Optimus Prime and his lackeys were nothing compared to the Decepticon Army. In fact, Rapidblast and Quickstrike were amazed the Autobots survived this long.

"We'd never do that," Rapidblast said slowly, "What would make you believe such a ridiculous idea?"

"I've seen you two in the training room. You fight much the same there as you do on the battlefield – ruthlessly, without mercy – Ratchet and Wheeljack told me you once came out of there so beat up, they thought you had been fighting Megatron himself. It took them well over a week to get you both fixed. My point is, every time you train somehow you seem to forget you're brothers. What happens if one of you goes too far?"

"We won't. End of story." Quickstrike turned his back on Cliffjumper, beginning to sharpen his sword.

"Quickstrike's right, he wouldn't turn on me, and I wouldn't turn on him." Rapidblast pivoted on his heel, concentrating on calibrating his rifle.

Cliffjumper raised his hands in the universal sign for surrender. "Primus, help me not to strangle these two."

**At the Same Time:**

"I told you, Prime, those two are liabilities," Ironhide was desperately trying to convince his commander to send Rapidblast and Quickstrike off-world, "They are dangerous – ruthless – and they won't stop even if every Decepticon is offline. Those two love to kill. Why did you accept them as Autobots? You've seen what they are capable of. They need to be stopped."

"Ironhide, I trust your judgment," Optimus laid a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "but every 'bot needs to be given a chance, ruthless or not. Give them time."

"I don't think they'll change." Ironhide insisted, shrugging off the Autobot leader's hand. "I don't see how they can change."

**Training Room:**

Quickstrike had left his sword in his quarters, preferring to brandish a special dagger instead. Similarly, Rapidblast exchanged his rifle for a highly advanced pistol. Of course, bringing real weapons into the training room was forbidden, but who cared. Everyone did.

Right then, the black and blue mech was crouched in the rafters, waiting in silence for his brother to turn around. He shifted into a better position to leap down on top of the white and black 'bot.

Rapidblast whipped around, hearing the sharp creak of Quickstrike's armor as he moved. "Come out, come out, wherever you are." He smirked in satisfaction when he heard a swift movement behind him. "I can hear you."

"Hear this!" The tip of Quickstrike's dagger pierced his brother's back, sending a splash of energon onto the carbon-steel floor.

"Very good," Rapidblast complimented, "now block this."

He threw Quickstrike to the ground, pressing the pistol to the other's throat. Quickstrike's optics gleamed in fury, but he didn't dare move. Rapidblast pulled the trigger, leaving a ragged gash in his brother's neck.

Regardless, Quickstrike counterattacked, he slashed viciously, tearing slits and other wounds into his partner's armor. The match went on and on, until the ground was littered with pieces of metal plating and covered in spilled energon. Still, they didn't stop. Rapidblast threw volley upon volley of laserblots at Quickstrike, each one hitting its mark. Quickstrike was skilled in his movements, cutting and ripping hardened metal like tin foil.

Finally, too exhausted to fight anymore, they both collapsed on the ground. Quickstrike turned his head, barely giving thought to his injured neck, to look at his brother. "What's the count?"

"Which one?"

"The count."

"Right, that one," Rapidblast painfully holstered his pistol, thinking. "Two Thousand – not including non-sentient beings and non-Cybertronians."

"Good." Quickstrike heard heavy footsteps coming toward them. "But not good enough. Not fast enough. Not nearly fast enough."

He panted, unsure of whether to get up and face the Autobots, or just wait for the yelling to be over. A dull thunk came from beside him. Rapidblast had passed out from energon loss.

Then, as his vision went dark, Quickstrike swore he could hear Ratchet's annoyed voice scolding him for the 'dangerous' practice bout.

His last thought was. 'Must get better. Must get faster. Can't let enemies have chan…'


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: So I finally got around to writing the second chapter to 2,000 and Counting. I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this, but wherever the plot leads, I'll follow. **

"I'm bored. Can we go now?"

"You are staying right there until we finish repairing the two of you, Rapidblast," Ratchet said angrily.

Quickstrike sighed. "We're fine. But we're bored. We need to go out and _do_ something."

Wheeljack handed Ratchet the medical welder. "This is going to take forever," he grumbled.

"Well, if you'd just let us out of here…" Rapidblast said smoothly.

"Wheeljack, put them in stasis before I kill them," Ratchet growled.

The inventor moved to do as he was told, but the brothers just wouldn't hold still.

Quickstrike snarled angrily and drew a dagger. His partner flipped out a pistol.

"We are _not_ above hurting either of you." Rapidblast's optics darkened with fury as he spoke.

Quickstrike jumped to his feet. "Rapidblast, you may want to increase the count by two."

"Noted."

The inventor and medic exchanged glances. Ratchet nodded and Wheeljack reached over to a shelf and pulled out a weird-looking device.

"I've been meaning to test this," he muttered as he flicked a few switches and pushed a couple of buttons.

It was the brothers' turn to look at each other.

"This isn't going to chan-" Quickstrike couldn't even find the strength to finish his sentence before he slipped into stasis lock. He collapsed, optics offlining and frame going limp.

Rapidblast dropped his weapon. He grabbed his brother's motionless body and glowered at Wheeljack, his optics burning with pure hatred. "There will be a reckoning," he hissed.

Then the two mechs dissolved into the background.

**Undisclosed Location:**

Rapidblast paced the edges of the room, deep in thought. He glanced back at his all-too-still brother, a feral snarl ripping from his vocorder.

"There will be a reckoning," he growled. He snatched up one of Quickstrike's most prized swords and plunged it hilt-deep into the wall.

Then, taking a small cannon from its place on the berth, he rigged it to explode. When the ash settled, he walked over to Quickstrike.

"I don't know what happened, but I promise you'll wake back up."

He stalked over to a computer console and entered the specifications. It beeped warningly at Rapidblast, attempting to dissuade him from furthering the procedure.

"Now," he purred, "I may not be a medic, but I've done this before. Remember?"

The computer chirped again, this time in a stern manner.

Rapidblast's calm façade shattered. "I know; I made a mistake last time!" He gingerly touched the scar on the side of his face. "And I will never forget it."

Buzzing a useless warning, the computer uploaded the commands into the mainframe.

"No," Rapidblast snarled, "I'm not an inventor either."

Another cautionary beep.

"Or a scientist."

A bitter chirp came from the console.

"Shut up, Firebird!" the white and black mech roared. "I made you what you are, make no mistake of that! Now, do as I say. It must work _perfectly_ this time."

The computer beeped sarcastically.

"Don't make me disassemble you, Firebird!"

**Autobot Base:**

Wheeljack was more than a little off-put by Rapidblast's last statement. Actually, it sounded more like a threat.

"_There will be a reckoning."_

Whatever the white and black mech had meant, he would surely follow through. And not be harmed afterwards.

After all, the young brothers had once threatened Optimus, Prowl, and Ironhide all at once, and they were still functioning.

Ratchet noticed the inventor's silence. "Rapidblast's only effective weapon is his words. He isn't skilled enough to make good on his threat." The chief medical officer wasn't sure if he sounded reassuring – calming worried mechs had never been his strong suit.

Wheeljack nodded. But he knew Rapidblast would do anything to follow through with his threat.

**Undisclosed Location:**

Quickstrike shook his head, trying to rid himself of the dark clutches of stasis lock. He sat up, looking around in confusion when he realized his brother wasn't in the room.

However, his weapons were lying on the berth next to him, each one slightly dulled. Immediately, Quickstrike forgot all about Rapidblast's absence and began sharpening his broadsword.

How many had fallen with this very weapon buried in their spark chambers? How many never recovered even at their medical officer's best efforts? Too many to count.

Quickstrike detested weakness. And to him, Cybertronians were weak.

Good thing he and Rapidblast weren't _actually_ Cybertronians.

As Quickstrike tested the tip of the blade on his hand, he felt a disturbance in the air behind him. Reacting on instinct, he snatched up a dagger and threw it. And then another.

When he sensed the movement had ceased, he touched the metallic floor, feeling the energon pooling around his hand.

"You idiot!" The voice came from behind him.

Quickstrike laughed; he'd know that voice anywhere. "Rapidblast, you should know better than to try and sneak up on me."

His white and black brother grunted as he extracted the daggers from his frame. "Your aim's improving," he said dryly.

"If you're not too badly _hurt," _– black and navy colored mech said the word with undisguised malice – "I want to kill something."

Rapidblast tested the wounds with his fingertips. There was a reason it took so long for them to fall in battle – they didn't _have_ pain receptors. "Nope, I'm good. Who do you want to get this time?"

"We haven't killed many Seeker Drones in a while."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

Quickstrike sheathed his sword. "Oh, hey, when do you want to start taking out Autobots?"

Rapidblast shrugged. "When we finish with the Decepticons, I guess."

**Decepticon Headquarters:**

Starscream watched the monitor, not very interested. As punishment for his embarrassing defeat at the hands of the two Autobots, Megatron had temporarily stripped him of his command and assigned him to monitor duty.

A small white and black shape appeared at the edge of the screen, one that was now very familiar to the red, gray, and blue jet. One of those annoying Autobot brothers. Which one, it was impossible to tell.

A sharp crack came from behind, making Starscream spin around nervously.

The black and navy Autobot was staring up at him with a smug expression.

Starscream jumped back in surprise, wondering how on Cybertron the Autobot was able to enter the base relatively undetected.

The little Autobot motioned for silence, nodding to his scabbard. His pale blue optics flashed when he saw Starscream move for the console. He lunged, drawing his sword without hesitation.

Starscream found himself on the ground with the Autobot holding the point of his sword to his spark chamber.

"Relax," the Autobot purred quietly, "we're not after you today. So if you stay silent and don't move, I promise we won't hurt you." He waited for the jet to nod, and then vanished.

**Shortly After:**

Rapidblast opened his comm to his brother's frequency. "Taken care of security already?"

Quickstrike's voice came in slightly garbled as he spoke. "Five minutes ago. You'll never guess who I met."

"Starscream?"

"The traitor himself!"

Rapidblast shivered in delight. "How long until the ground runs thick with spilled energon?"

"Depends. How much firepower are you packing?"

"An amount equivalent to the power of the weapons you're carrying."

Quickstrike terminated the conversation.

Rapidblast glanced suspiciously at the area around him. Deciding that he was too excited to wait any longer, he snuck into Decepticon Headquarters.

He stuck to the shadows, avoiding the Decepticons who passed by. His hand jerked to his holster, eager to begin the game. It took every ounce of trength he had not to rush out, all guns blazing. The Decepticons who had individual personalities were not his targerts today.

And that was when the Seeker Drones walked through.

Rapidblast's optics gleamed with bloodlust, and his processor imagined every possible way to make the suffering of the drones last as long as possible.

A shape sprung from the shadows across the room, flashes of bright silver sparking off its swords.

Quickstrike was right on time.

Rapidblast leaped into the fray, drawing his prized pistol.

A few of the drones had been at the last battle, and recognized the two Autobots.

Usually, Quickstrike and Rapidblast were very swift and neat when dispatching their enemies, but today the game was different. They wanted the enemy dead. And they wanted it to hurt.

One of the Seeker Drones managed to land a blow on Rapidblast, but it did not slow the Autobot down at all. The white and black mech snarled, his blue optics wild. He shot the drone in the head, then the neck, and finally directed a laserbolt into the drone's spark.

Quickstrike glanced at the half-dead Seeker Drone beneath him, calculating just how much more damage he could inflict before it was terminated.

He decided not to waste his time and shoved the sword through the drone's head.

The remaining drones looked on in fear as their brethren were mercilessly slaughtered.

Rapidblast turned to his brother, a savage light in his optics. Quickstrike smiled insanely, his sharp denta flashing dangerously.

Together, they turned to the living Seeker Drones.

When the horrific screams ceased, the nigh-identical brothers were found standing in a thick pool of energon and vital fluid, grinning like madmen, their optics crazed and their armor covered with the lifeblood of their kind.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I just realized something – I'm writing a story where the main characters are insane. And somehow I find that cool. **

Rapidblast sighed miserably after he realized there were no drones left to kill. "Satisfied?" he asked his brother.

Quickstrike whipped around, wiping a smear of energon off his faceplate. "No," he said, optics still wild with the thrill of killing. "You know I'll never be satisfied. But at least I can think straight now."

"Good. Now, what are we going to do about this mess?" Rapidblast gestured to the empty shells of dead drones and spilled vital fluid as he holstered his weapon.

Quickstrike smirked deviously. "Decepticons' base; Decepticons' mess," he answered.

Rapidblast shrugged. "Sounds good to me." He crossed his arms, staring up at the ceiling as he walked away. "You ever wonder what we'll do once there's nothing left to kill?"

His brother followed, cleaning his blade. "I try not to think about it," he said, shuddering.

**Undisclosed Location:**

Quickstrike polished his dagger, making sure he was able to see his reflection perfectly in it. "Do you think it's sharp enough, Rapidblast?"

Rapidblast himself was cleaning his firearms, keeping then in prime condition. He leveled the barrel of a pistol with his optic, inspecting it. "Dunno. What are you going to use it for?"

"Supposed to be for the final mission."

"You'll just have to sharpen it again once it happens, so why worry about it now?"

"Point taken," Quickstrike sighed, setting down the weapon and polishing cloth.

One of the consoles lit up, emitting a piercing whine.

Rapidblast groaned. "Do we have to report _now?"_ He tossed aside the pistol, activating the comm.

Quickstrike bolted over, standing by his brother's side. "Agents Rax and Sav reporting," he said, saluting.

"At ease," a stern voice said. "How goes your mission?"

The brothers exchanged frightened glances. This was the part they hated most. Rapidblast swallowed nervously, hoping Quickstrike would have an answer.

"Well, Sav?" The voice grew deeper. "How goes your mission?"

Rapidblast nudged his brother. Quickstrike nodded stiffly. "We have-"

"Silence, Rax. Only Sav was addressed."

Quickstrike lowered his gaze.

Rapidblast raised his head to look directly at the console screen. "Rax and I have already eliminated over a quarter of the enemy forces," he said flatly.

"Decepticon forces or enemy forces, Sav? Be specific." The voice changed back to its normal, icy tone.

Rapidblast gasped, knowing full well what would occur if he made another mistake. "Decepticon forces, Master," he said quickly.

"It has been nearly six earth-years, and yet you haven't even made a dent! You two are supposed to be the best!" This time, the voice rose to a furious shout.

The brothers flinched. Although they were designed without pain receptors, they were capable of feeling a small amount if the injury was extreme enough.

"We are the best," Quickstrike breathed. "No one else has ever gotten this close before."

"No other agents could have dispatched as many as we have," Rapidblast added. His voice was low and faintly scared.

"You have two meta-cycles before the mission is terminated," the voice snarled, "and the both of you along with it."

**Autobot Base:**

Aside from the fact that Rapidblast and Quickstrike were completely insane, there was something off about the two brothers. And Ratchet was determined to figure out what.

He accessed Autobot City's database, pulling up what little information existed on Quickstrike and his brother.

White-blue text flashed in the corner of the screen.

…_**Accessing data file 6385.**_

_**Designation: Rapidblast.**_

_**Function: Warrior.**_

_**Abilities: Mastery of firearms and keen optic for explosives.**_

_**Place of Origin: Unknown.**_

_**Date of Creation: Unknown.**_

_**Original Purpose: Unknown.**_

_**Notes: Highly volatile and ruthless. Noticeably stubborn and protective of split-spark twin, Quickstrike. Confirmed mentally unstable.**_

The file closed and another took its place.

…_**Accessing data file 6497.**_

_**Designation: Quickstrike.**_

_**Function: Warrior.**_

_**Abilities: Expert with melee weapons such as swords and daggers.**_

_**Place of Origin: Unknown.**_

_**Date of Creation: Unknown.**_

_**Original Purpose: Unknown.**_

_**Notes: Just as ruthless, if not more, than split-spark twin, Rapidblast. Also confirmed mentally unstable. Thought incapable of fear.**_

Well, that certainly didn't tell Ratchet anything he didn't already know.

He sifted through the other files, stopping on a report dated just before the two brothers had joined the Autobots.

**Nearly a hundred reported missing after battle.**

_**Following a hard-earned victory against Megatron's forces stationed on Cybertron, ninety-six Autobots were found to be missing. It was originally thought that they had been captured, but after a deca-cycle and a half with no threats or demands, it was clear that wasn't the case.**_

_**Several teams of Autobots were sent out to search for their missing comrades, but none were ever found – at least not alive. Two-thirds of the bodies were eventually recovered; along with a few so mangled they were unidentifiable.**_

_**To date, it is unknown why ninety-six Autobots went missing, or who killed them. One thing is for certain, whoever orchestrated such a thing must have been a genius – or insane.**_

Funny, Ratchet had never heard of such a thing occurring before. Then he noticed a side note with an embedded code.

_**At the site where most of the bodies were found, two unknown mechs were spotted. It was not discovered what they were doing there, or if they were somehow linked to the deaths, as they disappeared before they could be questioned.**_

_**However, scans of the mechs were obtained, but matched no one in Cybertron's database, Autobot or otherwise.**_

The code contained the scans, and when Ratchet was able to decipher it, he wasn't in the least bit surprised. There was no one else it could have been.

Their frames were more angular and slightly smaller, not to mention their colors were different, but the wild blue optics and bared denta betrayed their identities.

**Undisclosed Location:**

"Two meta-cycles," Quickstrike breathed. "Two meta-cycles to finish our mission?" He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword until he feared it would break.

Even Rapidblast was nervous. "There must be at least twenty thousand Cybertronians left. We've only killed two thousand."

"Two thousand, three hundred and eighty-five." Quickstrike's voice was taut.

"Right. And that's been in six years."

"Hold on, have we been counting those we killed on Cybertron and other planets?"

"I don't think so," Rapidblast said.

"Then that would make it somewhere around five thousand," Quickstrike pointed out.

"Still, that's not fast enough. We'll be terminated for sure," Rapidblast snarled.

Quickstrike grabbed his brother by the shoulder. "You said it yourself – no other agents could have dispatched as many as we have." He spun Rapidblast around to face him. "Quilia and Natrar would have been terminated by this point. _We're_ the best, Rapidblast. _We are._ No one else."

Rapidblast sighed miserably. "But will it be enough to save us?"

**AN: First things first – a meta-cycle is approximately thirteen months and a deca-cycle is approximately ten days.**

**Also, is it just me, or do the brothers finally seem to be scared of something?**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: The beginning of this chapter probably won't make sense at first, but it will later.**

_"You failed."_

_Rax slid gracefully down on one knee, head bowed and weapons on the ground before him. His pale blue optics were fixed on the ground. "I promise it will never happen again," he said._

_Sav did not look up. "We will not make the same mistake twice."_

_Quilia and Natrar looked on from the entryway in faint amusement. The twin femmes' spirits lifted when they noticed the quiet whimper in Sav's voice when he spoke._

_Natrar stepped forward, lowering her gaze respectfully. "Master, perhaps they are not ready for this mission. You should send a more experienced team."_

_"No, Natrar. They only need pass one more test."_

_Quilia bared her denta, stalking up beside her white and purple twin. "But you promised us this mission," she said. "It is supposed to be ours."_

_"Silence! You four will all engage in the last test, and prove who is worthy."_

_The red and silver femme glared down at Rax and Sav, giving a silent warning._

_The white and black mech, Sav, returned the glare, a challenge in his optics._

_Natrar and Rax had a similar exchange, glowering and growling at each other._

_"Enough. You four are supposed to be the perfect beings, incapable of such petty rivalries."_

_"No remorse," said Quilia._

_"No fear," added Natrar._

_"No mercy," continued Rax._

_"And no weakness," finished Sav._

_"Very good. Dismissed."_

_Sav could sense the strange mix of emotions floating about in his twin's processor - anger, a flash of blind rage, and... confusion? The young mech delved deeper into the bond he and Rax shared._

Get out of my head._ Rax absolutely hated the fact that he and his brother could read each other's thoughts._

_You're awfully upset today._

And I have every right to be. Get out of my head.

_Sav's defiant voice was just as annoying in Rax's head as it was in real life. _Make me. Now, spill it.

What on New Quintessa are you going on about?

I am not stupid, and do not even start to think you can hide anything from me.

_Rax sighed. _It is mildly embarrassing.

_Sav shoved his twin into the wall, darting away as soon as he did so. _I will not tell.

_The navy blue and black mech gave chase, barely giving pause to the Allicons watching them. _Um... well... I kind of like Natrar.

_Sav froze, turning to stare at Rax. "You are kidding," he said out loud. "You have to be joking."_

_Rax tackled him to the ground. "Not a word to anyone about this, understand?" He drew his short sword and pressed the point to his twin's throat._

_"Oh, but this is such excellent blackmail material," Sav hissed. His denta were exposed in a deadly smile._

_Suddenly, Rax felt the cold metal of a pistol against his chestplate. "You would not."_

_"I most certainly would."_

_Quilia rolled her crimson optics as she passed by with Natrar. "I cannot believe he wants to send these immature younglings on such an important mission."_

_The white and purple femme next to her nodded in agreement. "They're just as bad as the imperfect Cybertronians."_

_"Should we tell them that if they kill their twin, they will die, too?"_

_Natrar grinned. "Let them figure it out for themselves."_

_Rax shoved the knife in._

_Sav fired the pistol._

_It only took that for the both of them to end up on opposite sides of the hallway, clutching at their respective wounds to stop the energon from escaping._

_A pair of Allicons sighed and grabbed the twins, dragging them off toward the Medical Bay._

_When Rax and Sav were fully repaired, they were sent back to the debriefing room._

What do you think the test will be?_ Sav asked excitedly._

_Rax's fist connected with his twin's shoulder guard. _Shut up and remember, we are not capable of emotion. Especially in front of the Imperial Magistrate.

_"Emotion is weakness," Sav said, repeating what they had been taught since their creation. "Weakness is imperfection. Imperfection leads to termination."_

_Rax nodded somberly. "One must be perfection to survive."_

_Natrar's smug voice came from behind him. "We are perfection."_

_Quilia joined in. "And we will survive."_

_The four agents walked through the ornately decorated doors and bowed._

_Their voices melded together in perfect harmony. "We are ready."_

_"Your challenge begins as soon as you board the shuttle."_

_Rax nearly choked. He hated flying, and he hated shuttles._

_Sav sensed his brother's discomfort and tried to calm him. _Show no emotion in front of the Imperial Magistrate, remember?

Get out of my head.

**Undisclosed Location:**

Rapidblast loved that memory. It really was excellent blackmail material that his brother had a crush on Natrar.

He grabbed a rifle, checking to see that Quickstrike was still in recharge. This part of the mission was not for his brother.

"Firebird, download the specs."

The computer buzzed softly.

"I'm sure."

**Autobot Base:**

Red Alert paced the room, unable to keep still as he shot wary glances at the monitors. Someone was coming, he just knew it. He'd made the mistake of saying as much to Inferno, and now he had a medical check-up later that week.

Ratchet was going to kill him; he always tried to, and now he'd do it! So he wouldn't go. Yes, yes. That was it. He wouldn't go.

He'd be safe from that crazy medic. Safe from _them._

Oh, yes, them. They were out to get him. They were _all_ out to get him.

Especially those annoying twins.

_No, no, not those twins. Not the lambos. The motorcycles. What were their names?_

Red Alert's head jerked back to the screen when he caught a flash of movement.

A deep blue mech was walking up to the door. He was- he was... defeating the security?

The Security Director slammed his fist down on the red button - yes, the one he was told only to push if there was a_ real_ emergency.

"And they call me paranoid," Red Alert said.

Inferno came running. "What happened?"

"I told you someone was coming! I told you!" Red Alert pointed urgently at the monitor. "Look! Look!"

The fire truck sighed. "I don't see anything, Red. No one's there."

"No one's where?" an icy voice asked.

Slowly, the two Autobots turned 'round to come face-to-face with the dark mech who had been at the entrance only moments ago.

"You!" yelled Red Alert.

"Miss me? Of course not."

Inferno could barely recognize the mech. He didn't look right.

The jagged edges framing the small mech's faceplate and running down his arms offset the neat corners on his shoulders and wheel wells.

Inferno didn't even have time to run. He was pinned to the ground and a rifle held to his spark chamber.

The dark mech grinned madly. "Don't you think it would be ironic if the fire truck died by fire?"

Inferno felt the pieces fit together. The crazed optics and smile. "Rapidblast," he spat.

Rapidblast's smile widened. "Goodbye," he said cheerily, redirecting the shot from his gun into Inferno's arm. He curled one hand into a fist as he holstered his blaster. An insane giggle escaped him when he saw the blade extending. "A gift from the Imperial Magistrate."

Inferno's scream rang out, waking some of the Autobots nearby.

Red Alert scrambled for the In-Case-of-Emergency button again.

"Sorry," Rapidblast said, optics blackening, "but I can't let you do that."

**Later...**

Ratchet came running when he heard the scream. Someone was injured.

When he entered the monitor room, he saw Inferno's lifeless husk against the wall and Red Alert slumped against the console.

The energon still spilling from Security Director's chassis was stained red, indicating some sort of poison.

A nauseatingly familiar figure was crouched in next to Red Alert's body, energon dripping from a closed fist. "You and the inventor are next," he said before disappearing.

Ratchet leaned down to inspect the fatal wounds, and saw a message carved into the white and red armor.

_Greetings from New Quintessa._

_Cybertronians are imperfection._

_Imperfection leads to termination._


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: This chapter is officially dedicated to Mrs. Knock Out, who has spurred me to continue this story as rapidly as I can.**

The words 'Ratchet' and 'jumpy' – or any other word with a similar meaning – shouldn't be used in a sentence together, barring if there is a huge NOT in between them. But how else would the Autobots describe their medic's recent behavior?

Ratchet was constantly looking over his shoulder, starting nervously whenever someone came up behind him. Fortunately, no one questioned him about it. They didn't want to risk a wrench connecting with their heads. Nevertheless, one had to wonder what was making the medic act this way.

**Undisclosed Location:**

Quickstrike balled his servos, his faceplate twisting in an angry grimace. "What do you mean you saw her?"

Rapidblast did not reply. If she was here, then- Primus, he didn't even want to think about it! He felt the names on the tip of his glossa, dripping with mocking scorn. Names he'd hoped he'd never have to say again, much less come into contact with their owners. He curled his lip component in disgust when he recalled the oh-so high and mighty smirk and cold humor. "There's no mistaking that frame, no matter how you alter it," he spat, flicking his servo contemptuously.

Quickstrike stalked up to his twin, poking a sharp digit into the white and black mech's chestplate. He'd heard the silent remark that followed. "Like you're any better."

Ready with a biting reply, Rapidblast planted his servo on his twin's chest and shoved. "You're just like me, you know. So that makes you that much worse."

"'_Frag those stupid glitches?'"_ It was hard to miss the anger in Quickstrike's optics. He could also feel the names slipping into his mind, and it bothered him. He'd thought he'd be happy to see her again. But all he felt was rage. This was his and Rapidblast's mission – not theirs!

"It was your thought, too."

"Was not!"

"Was, too!"

**Somewhere in America, Seventeen Hours Earlier:**

' _Activation sequence completed…'_

Two prone shapes uncurled on their berths as the computer gave the alert. Identical in frame, it was only fitting that the femmes were split-spark twins. They stretched, quietly checking that their systems came online properly.

"We are awake?" the white and lavender femme asked, reaching over her slender sister to grab a bow and quiver.

The red and silver one rolled her crimson optics. Turning her head to make sure her wings were in the proper alignment, she replied, _"Really?_ I had not noticed."

"Do not mock me. Anyway, where are we?" the first snapped. She nocked an arrow and stared down the shaft, aiming at something.

The second went over to a console and typed in a command. She then picked up a spear, testing the edge. "Er– Era– Earth." Her mouth curved in a disgusted frown as she tried to pronounce the word.

"Are they here?" One could tell by the look on her faceplate who the winged femme was thinking about.

Her twin let out a faint sound of amusement. "They should be." She cursed vehemently when her white and lavender twin loosed an arrow on her.

Dodging the spear thrown her way with practiced ease, the first femme went over to the viewscreen. "I think we landed in the wrong location. I do not see their ship."

"I told you Thunder could not navigate."

'_Apologies, Breaker. I was unaware there were hostile forces in the area when I attempted to land. If you were to disembark, you would find their ship a mere hic to our west.'_

Breaker growled, completely aware that the nav-computer was correct. "Whatever. Shatter, stop it; you're making me want to purge!"

Shatter frowned, a digit tracing the serrated tip of an arrowhead. "You cannot make me."

"I could just run you through."

"Then you would die as well."

Breaker frowned. "Yes, I suppose. No matter. If we are awake, then they must have failed. We are required to take over," she said.

"We should take a native secondary mode. You know, to blend in," Shatter pointed out. "I wonder what their flight-capable vehicles look like."

"Nothing like Velocitron's, I hope," Breaker quipped dryly, scowling. Her wings bobbed up and down for a moment, revealing just how excited she was at the prospect of taking to the air again.

Shatter pushed her red and silver twin toward the exit ramp, pausing only to sling her bow over her shoulder and let Breaker grab her spear. "Thunder?"

'_Right away, Shatter.'_

The door opened, and the white and lavender femme continued pushing Breaker until they both tumbled into the ground. They shrieked upon realizing what they had fallen into. Mud, viscous and a sickly brown color, coated their frames and sunk into their internal systems. The jet twins flailed in the mud, already hating the planet called Earth.

Breaker finally was able to get up, and plucked her sister out of the sludge. She stormed on board, pointing an accusing digit. "You," she snarled, "you knew that was out there."

'_I do not comprehend. I knew what was out there?'_

"The mud." By this point, Breaker's vents were cycling heavily as she fought to maintain her temper. It would not do to destroy the nav computer in a fit of rage. _"I cannot fly_ with mud stuck in my gears."

'_I am quite aware of the fact, Breaker. And I was also quite aware that there was mud at the end of the exit ramp.'_

Breaker made an angry gesture. "And why did you not tell me?" Her grip on the shaft of her spear tightened when she heard the nav computer reply,

'_You did not ask.'_

Shatter was looking over her shoulder to make sure she had cleaned the last of the mud off her wings when her commlink beeped. A familiar voice came through it as she activated the speaker.

"I was wondering when you'd arrive, Natrar."

An exultant trill formed in Shatter's vocorder, eventually breaking free in a shrill squeal of, "Rax!" She shook her head and composed herself. When she spoke again, her voice was flat and lacking emotion. "We arrived at the same time as you did. We were not, however, awakened until now."

"Whatever." The teasing note in his voice was unmistakeable. "Meet me and Rapidblast at the rendezvous. I'm sending you coordinates now."

"Rapidblast?"

"Yeah, me and Sav go by new names now. Thought the old ones would sound too… Quintessonian. Didn't you and Quilia change your names a while back?"

"We did." Shatter could remember when she and Breaker went to pledge their 'allegiance' to 'Lord Megatron'. She had nearly laughed in the warloard's face when she and her sister were instructed to kneel before him. Breaker had nearly replied that they kneeled only to the Imperial Magistrate. "Quilia goes by Breaker now. I go by Shatter."

"I go by Quickstrike. Sav goes by Rapidblast."

"Breaker and I will meet you at the rendezvous, then, um… Quickstrike." Shatter frowned as she said the name. She didn't like it. She didn't like the way it sounded. It wasn't simple and meaningful like Rax. Quickstrike's old name meant _Master of Swords_. His new name was long and… and it sounded wrong. It sounded _Cybertronian._

Breaker also frowned. Meeting with Quickstrike would also mean meeting with… meeting with… _What is he calling himself again?_

_Rapidblast,_ her twin supplied.

Meeting with Rapidblast. And that would not be pretty by any means.

'_Apologies once more, Breaker, but there is an incoming transmission for you and Shatter.'_

"Put in on display," Shatter ordered. A face came onto the viewscreen, angry-looking and unsympathetic.

"You know your mission."

Breaker's red and silver frame glowed in the soft light from the screen. "To destroy the Cybertronians."

The face changed, turning whimsical and somewhat comedic with a metallic whirr. "Because?"

"They are imperfection. They do not deserve to live," hissed Shatter, her crimson optics gleaming.

"Very good." A content face replaced the earlier one. "You are to destroy those that call themselves Decepticons from the inside."

"A-and those referred to as Autobots?" Shatter bit back the rest of the question. _And Rax and Sav?_

"Agents Rax and Sav will terminate them."

"Understood, Imperial Magistrate," Breaker said.

"There is to be one last part to your mission, to be completed in two metacycles."

Before the Imperial Magistrate could finish, there came a whooshing sound from the open exit ramp. Breaker leaped close, spear held out offensively. Shatter had her bow up to the draw and an arrow ready to fire in an instant. She looked at the intruder: a black cybercat – a cassette, to be exact. Her mouth curved into a deadly smile. "Here, kitty, kitty."

Breaker stabbed the cassette through his spark chamber, but hit him just high enough that the last thing he saw was the serrated tip of one of Shatter's arrows as it pierced his helm. After they were sure the spy was dead, they turned back to the glowing viewscreen. "The last part to our mission?" Breaker prompted.

"If all of the Autobots and Decepticons have not been terminated by that point, then there is something you must do."

"What is it?" Shatter's voice and optics were still feverish from the thrill of terminating an enemy.

"Kill Rax and Sav."


End file.
